


Turn of the Year

by Capella (Caprina)



Series: Sea Longing Series [15]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 15:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caprina/pseuds/Capella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the turn of the year, gifts are exchanged and wishes shared.</p><p>A short sequel to 'The Sea of Sand', written in the mid 2000's under the name Capella.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn of the Year

Imrahil sat at the long table, surveying the cheerful scene around him and basking in the general air of contentment. Five days into the celebrations, the Great Hall seemed comfortable in its Yuletide finery. The swags of holly and ivy draped around the walls were perhaps not as crisp as they had been, but their glossy green still caught the light most handsomely. Richly embroidered hangings fluttered in any passing draught, the enormous tree stood proud with all its freshly replenished candles flickering, and the table groaned beneath a weight of fine food and wine. 

As was his custom, the prince spared a thought for absent family and friends before turning to speak to his son. Merenin's happiness outshone all the lamps, gold and silver in the hall put together, and just looking at him was enough to gladden Imrahil's heart. Father of a fine new baby girl, his wife now recovering well from the ordeal of a difficult birth, Merenin had every reason to glow. 

The two men talked of inconsequential matters, each simply enjoying the other’s company, as they tackled the first course. They were laughing together over an ancient jest when the page approached.

Imrahil let the bread fall to his plate and slammed his goblet down hard as he saw the visitor at the door, moments before the name was announced. The hall fell quiet as he scrambled to his feet and hurried to greet his unexpected guest, too delighted by far to let conventional manners concern him.

"Prince Legolas! What a wonderful surprise!" He stood before Legolas, grinning as broadly as his face would allow. 

The elf regarded him wordlessly for a moment, his fine features alight with joy. He was dressed in forest colours and his pale cheeks were slightly flushed from the cold. Imrahil could only gaze at him, marvelling once again at his beauty.

"Prince Imrahil, my friend," Legolas said at last. "All the joy of the season to you."

They clasped forearms tightly and each spoke silently into the other's eyes. Imrahil could feel the warmth of his lover's greeting playing in his mind, but it was not enough. Abandoning decorum completely, he moved forward and threw his arms around Legolas, holding him fiercely close, the blood roaring in his veins.

At length propriety demanded that the prince break the embrace, and he stepped back to look Legolas in the eye. It seemed to be the cue for those around them to resume their chatter, and within moments a healthy hum of background noise masked Imrahil's words.

"You seem to be making a habit of arriving unannounced," he said.

"Forgive me." Legolas made a show of mock contrition. "By the time your letter reached me it was quicker for me to ride here than to send a reply. I might have delayed my journey, but I felt a pressing need to wish you the blessings of Yuletide in person, and to congratulate the new parents.” He raised one elegant eyebrow. "Are you not happy to see me?"

"You know it," replied Imrahil fervently. Then, fearing that his excess of emotion must be plain for all to observe, he turned and indicated the table, where an extra place had been hurriedly prepared, and where Merenin stood waiting to greet Legolas. 

Seated between father and son, the elf was a merry companion. He had brought good wishes for health and happiness from Meluinen and others of his kin, and news from Faramir’s court, where he had feasted but a few days previously. 

“If I had known then that I would make this journey so soon, I might have brought letters,” he said apologetically. “I do, however, have this.” He passed the bulky scroll down the table to Heledir.

The counsellor, for a moment quite his old unconfident self, blushed crimson and stuttered his thanks. 

“Velenda is most insistent that a visit to Ithilien this spring is essential to progress on your grand history. She needs to speak to her collaborator directly,” Legolas added with a smile.

“By my prince’s leave,” Heledir managed to croak.

Imrahil laughed. “Naturally you must go. Who am I to stand in the way of scholarship?”

Towards the end of the meal the conversation turned to their adventures in the south, and thus to their fellow travellers.

"They are well?" Legolas enquired eagerly.

Imrahil grinned. “Extremely well, and ridiculously happy, the pair of them. They dined at the palace only last week. Gedrinel was in fine form, and Kallim as entertaining as ever." 

"Then they did not sail north for the midwinter festival?” Legolas asked. "As I recall, Gedrinel had promised Kallim that he should experience snow."

"That may have to wait until next year. The Lynx is out of the water for repairs, so they are safely ensconced in Gedrinel's house down near the docks. Their change of plans has worked to my advantage, I might add; Kallim has been advising my men on the design of the new steam room. It should be finished within the next few days – I hope you will still be here to see it. We must invite Gedrinel and Kallim to its inauguration."

"Indeed, that is a fine idea." Legolas cast him a knowing glance and allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch.

Once they eaten their fill, Imrahil contained his lustful impatience and suggested a visit to Lelneth and the new baby. He stood to one side, watching with an almost suffocating sense of tenderness, as Legolas greeted Lelneth with evident pleasure before picking up the tiny child and studying her carefully. Imrahil had not mentioned to his lover the fact that his first grandchild carried the elvish blood, but it was immediately clear that such an explanation was unnecessary. Legolas gazed at Oloriel with a look of wonder and recognition, then brought her closer and murmured to her in the old language. The baby chuckled and reached for him with miniature fingers.

Lelneth, holding Merenin’s hand as she lay propped up on downy pillows, seemed quite entranced by the scene. She watched intently for a while, then said, “Prince Legolas, there is a favour I would ask of you.”

Legolas placed the child in her crib and turned to the bed. “Anything you wish, my lady,” he said courteously.

“When she is old enough, may she come to your people in Ithilien to learn something of your ways? I would not have her growing up in ignorance of her heritage.”

“But of course! You and your daughter will always be welcome in my realm. I should be overjoyed to receive you there,” replied Legolas, obviously delighted.

At last the moment arrived when Imrahil could lead Legolas to his chamber and close the door behind them. He turned to his lover with a pounding heart.

"Do you know how happy I am to see you here? I still cannot believe it," he said, stepping into Legolas's embrace.

"This has been a significant year for us," Legolas said when they broke apart from their kiss. "It seemed right that I should spend its turning with you."

"So right." Imrahil agreed. He buried his face in his lover's hair and they held each other silently for a while.

Eventually Legolas said, "I have brought something for you." He freed himself from Imrahil's arms and crossed the room to his bag. After delving in its depths for a moment he emerged with a neat rectangular package, wrapped in fine green paper and secured with a golden ribbon. 

"You should not have -" Imrahil began, but Legolas silenced him with a shake of his head. 

"Say no such thing," the elf admonished. "Why should I not bring a gift to the man I love?"

Imrahil blinked and nodded, not trusting his voice. He took the parcel from the elf's outstretched hands and began to remove its coverings.

“Oh, this is... simply wonderful.” The paper and ribbon fell to the floor as Imrahil turned the box in his hands. It was finely made of densely grained, honey-coloured wood, with intricate scenes carved into the top and all four sides. Imrahil sat down on the edge of the bed to examine them more closely. Here on the lid was a great sweep of dunes with a crescent moon above; there on the sides were the distinctive shapes of palms and kaadins, the dome of the bath house, the walls and skyline of a southern town, the cave tombs of the desert kings. There were even four tiny shapes on horseback winding their way down a long road towards a distant horizon.

“What beautiful work. I cannot...” Imrahil gazed up at Legolas through eyes that were suddenly misted, and abandoned his search for suitably original words. “Thank you, my love,” he said firmly. “I shall treasure it.”

“Look inside,” said Legolas with a slight suggestion of a grin.

Prising open the snugly fitting lid, Imrahil discovered that the interior of the box was polished to a shine, and that it held a plain pewter pot and a crystal jar. He opened the pot first, and sniffed curiously at the sweet-smelling flakes of dried leaf within. 

“A spoonful infused in the water for the steam room will induce a wonderfully languorous contentment,” the elf explained. “It is an old elvish recipe.”

“And this?” Imrahil held up the jar, uncorked to reveal a pinkish-white cream with an oddly pearlescent appearance.

“Ah, that one is for more... general use,” Legolas said, no longer bothering to suppress his amusement. “It is said to have a most stimulating effect.”

“Said to have?” Imrahil echoed. “You have not tried it for yourself?”

“Indeed not. Some things should be experienced only in appropriate company,” Legolas said smoothly. He bent down and kissed Imrahil’s forehead before taking the box and the pewter pot from his hands. The jar he left on the coverlet at Imrahil’s side.

Imrahil watched, his breath catching with excitement, as the elf walked slowly to the dresser and deposited the gifts there. Legolas was never vulgar or obvious in his movements, but there was something about his posture that made it quite clear that he knew he was being observed, and that as he enjoyed the knowledge his desire was growing in tandem with Imrahil’s.

"If I had known that you were coming, I would have something to give you in return," the prince said.

Legolas clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Do you think I journeyed here in the hope of receiving gifts from you?" He turned and approached the bed, his eyes locked to Imrahil's.

"Well -"

"As a matter of fact, you would be quite right; I have indeed come to claim my gifts," Legolas continued unexpectedly, standing before Imrahil and stroking a finger down from the prince's forehead, over his nose and to his mouth, where it slowly traced the shape of his lips. "To start with, is this not for me?" 

"Yes," whispered Imrahil, shivering at the over-stimulation of his sensitive skin.

"And this?" the elf continued, as his finger strayed lower, gliding across Imrahil's throat, pushing under the top edge of his shirt and circling deliberately on his chest.

"Yes."

"Mmm," Legolas said appreciatively. 

Imrahil's belt was unbuckled and thrown to one side, his tunic tugged over his head and his shirt gaping open, almost before he knew it. 

"This?" Legolas enquired innocently, letting his hand explore Imrahil's belly with a touch that was calculated to rouse the prince to a frenzy.

Imrahil, leaning back on his elbows, drew a shaky breath. "For you, yes," he agreed helplessly.

Legolas was on his knees now, clever fingers working at Imrahil's breeches. Within seconds, the fastenings were defeated and the prince's cock bared to Legolas's approving gaze. Imrahil groaned and arched upwards as the elf ran the back of his hand up and down, once, excruciatingly lightly.

"What about this, my beautiful prince? Is this for me?"

Imrahil gasped for breath as he peered down at Legolas. The elf's blond head was only inches from the full, straining flesh upon which his attention was concentrated. Imrahil could feel the gentle gust of warm air across his skin as the elf exhaled. 

"That," Imrahil said with feeling, "is most definitely for you."

Legolas looked up at him with his most dazzling of smiles. "Then I shall have to put it to good use," he said sweetly.

Before Imrahil could even attempt a reply, the elf dipped his head and extended his tongue. Imrahil bit his lip suppressing a shout as Legolas licked slowly and carefully from the base to the tip of his cock, then lingered there, teasing at the slit and the most sensitive places around it. 

"Sweet Valar!" Imrahil was squirming on the bed, clutching at Legolas's shoulders and head and struggling to control his voice. Undeterred, the elf continued his delicate torment until the prince forgot himself and let out a loud and demanding groan.

Legolas laughed, and sat back on his heels. He busied himself with Imrahil’s boots, and before long was pulling leather and wool away from his legs. The elf’s fingers dragged lingeringly over his skin from thigh to ankle, and Imrahil found himself shaking. 

"Are you cold, my prince?” Legolas asked, all blithe concern. He rose effortlessly to his feet and began removing his own clothes with unhurried deliberation, gazing into Imrahil’s eyes all the while.

“Not cold,” Imrahil muttered. He shuffled back up the bed to support himself on the pillows, and grasped his cock tightly, sighing with relief.

“Wait.” Legolas stepped out of the last of his garments and climbed onto the mattress. “Delightful as it is to watch you stroking yourself, I have a better idea.”

The elf positioned himself precisely, his knees to either side of Imrahil’s legs, hands by his shoulders, their bodies perfectly aligned. Then he lowered himself carefully as Imrahil reached up with both arms to pull him down.

“Ah, yes,” was all Imrahil managed to say before Legolas’s mouth covered his.

It was a deep kiss, a thorough one, the sort of kiss that involves the soul as much as the lips and tongue. And yet only a fraction of Imrahil’s brain was conscious of its intensity; the remainder was too busy with the sensation of the elf’s body moving against his own. It was a slow, circling motion, causing their skin to stick and slide in a rhythm that was almost painfully enjoyable. 

When Legolas drew back to allow Imrahil to breathe, the prince was perilously close to losing himself altogether. “Ai, Legolas, I am going to...” he gasped, pushing up against the elf’s firm cock. 

“Not yet, my love. We have something new to experience together,” Legolas said, lifting himself away. While Imrahil shuddered and swallowed great gulps of air, the elf reached for the crystal jar. He dipped his fingers inside and regarded the thick lotion for a moment before shifting to the side and spreading a little across Imrahil’s chest.

The effect was mild at first, a faint warm tingle that was merely agreeable. Only when Legolas’s hand rubbed over the same area a few seconds later did Imrahil moan with astonished delight. It was as if ten thousand new nerves had leapt into being under his skin, and every one of them with a direct connection to his groin. As the elf continued to stroke him, Imrahil wriggled on the bed, eyes shut, no longer caring that his gasps had become shouts of pleasure.

By the time Legolas’s hands reached his cock, Imrahil was only vaguely aware of what was happening. Utterly undone by the extreme sensation, he struggled for every breath and moaned unashamedly at each touch. As the elf moved to straddle him once more, he realised what was to come next and managed to voice his disbelief.

“Ai! You cannot...” 

Legolas was quick to demonstrate that indeed he could. He ran a last lotion-coated hand over Imrahil’s smarting flesh, then brought his own body down slowly but determinedly in its wake. It was like nothing Imrahil had felt before: impossibly hot, impossibly tight, impossibly, agonisingly good. Before Legolas could even begin to move in earnest, Imrahil was coming, grasping the elf’s hips and pushing up as hard as his enfeebled muscles would allow, crying out at each searing pulse of fire shooting through his loins. It seemed to last half a lifetime, and by the end of it, Legolas too was singing out his pleasure as hot fluid splashed across Imrahil’s chest. At last the elf fell forward across him, and they lay still.

It was a long while before Imrahil noticed the cold. He shifted under Legolas’s weight just enough to reach for the coverlet, and pulled it up across them both. Then he returned to the far more rewarding pastime of stroking his lover’s hair, silky and warm beneath his hand.

Legolas lifted his head, and moved to place a kiss on Imrahil’s cheek.

“How could you say that you had nothing to give me?” the elf murmured. “Every moment with you is a gift.”

“And to me it is a blessing, a blessing of such proportions, I still cannot credit my good fortune,” Imrahil replied. They kissed once more, with gentle passion.

“What do you wish for, at the start of a new year?” Imrahil asked after a time.

Legolas was silent for a while before responding, “It is not the tradition of my people to mark the turning of the year in such a way. We celebrate new life springing from a cold earth, but we make no such wishes. Tell me of yours, instead.”

“I wish only that I might know in the new year a little of the happiness you have brought me in the old one,” said Imrahil promptly. “I used to say, may the coming year be the best I have yet known; but surely there could not be anything better than this.”

As the elf shifted, pushing himself up to his knees, Imrahil looked up at him in consternation. 

“What is it?” Imrahil asked. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”

“Forgive me, my prince; I cannot help but take your words as a challenge,” Legolas said wickedly, as he retrieved the crystal jar from the edge of the bed. “You say that it could not get any better? Roll over onto your front, and I shall attempt to prove you wrong.”


End file.
